Legends of Lunacy
by Bazerkerking
Summary: Welcome weary travelers to my humble abode, I have a story to tell you, many stories in fact. Would you like to hear them? A plot dump for the raging insanity that is in my head.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone who has ever subscribed to my stories, first off let me apologize for taking so long to update and for abandoning a few of my stories for so long. Life has done is damnedst to make sure that I haven't had time to write anymore weither it would be through work;** personal** time, or training for my I would like to say I am really sorry for taking so long to truly get over it and to finally get back to you guys and gals. Okay authors note is out of the way, so we can get down to business. One of the main reasons that I haven't been posting as often as I did last year was because I've had so many ideas for stories that I haven't been able to keep my thoughts straight, but then I had an idea, almost everyone and their mother on fanfiction has a dust bunny dump site that usually turns out to be pretty successful, so it hit me, why don't I do that so I don't lose my ideas, and you guys can have some entertainment out of it? So without further adieu I present to you, Legends of Lunacy!**

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**Chapter one **

**( a self insert? AWESOME!)**

**" **Ugh, why does it have to be so hard to write my ideas on to paper!" Our story begins with a typical sight of modern America, a young teenaged boy on the cusp of manhood, sitting alone in front of a computer, fruitlessly trying and mostly failing to pen the wonders of his imagination into the wondrous fluidity of the written wore clothes of the middle american man at rest, a t-shirt and sweatpants. He breathed out a sigh through his nose as he reclined into his favorite arm chair and ran his hands through his lengthy brown locks, his green eyes were alight in a frustration induced fury that seemed to make the ocular obs glow with an inner fire. " Its always the same; I have these ideas, incredible works of fantasy that only I can see and hear, yet no matter how hard I try,when I write them down they never come out the way I want! Not enough detail, to much exhibition, too stiff dialogue, its completely maddening!"

He shifted his gaze from the computer screen to the ceiling above him as he let out another sigh," Sometimes I just wish I could live out my stories, to experience them in reality as I do in my dreams, is that too much to ask?". His head lulled back to look at his screen, before coming to a rest in the familiar embrace of his fingers gripping his forehead near his temple. " Are ya sure about laddie? Who says ya can't!" His body stiffing up in surprise and no small amount of fear.

The focus of our view turns his head to look at the source of the horrifyingly familiar scottish brogue. He knew that voice, it was a voice any bethesda gamer would know. our source of interest's eyes locked onto the intruder of his private thoughts, scarcely believing what his eyes were trying to tell them. The intruder was standing against the door,leaning on a staff crafted from black metal with the effigy of three heads each screaming in there own brand of madness, whether it be light, oppressive, or just indifferent. He wore a finely crafted suit made of some type of cloth of extreme expense. His suit jacket with puffy sleeves was split into to different, yet similar colors, the left half was a light; almost joyous purple, while the right was a darker and significantly more menacing shade of similar color . Continuing with the theme of noble dress, the unwelcome visitor wore a pair of red slacks and black dress companion's eyes rose up to the invader's face, his was one of noble birth, thus explaining the clothes. High cheek bones, an aquiline nose, however it was the eyes that captured our host's attention the most. colored a bright golden yellow, the pupil was slitted like that of a cat, and they shone with an insanity so deep and so vast that you could almost hear the screaming of lunatics from the hidden horizon. the young author froze, his mind racing. How about we take a look inside his thoughts and get a better idea of his reaction.

" What does one do", he wondered "when one meets a god?" the first thought that came to mind was to dismiss this as a dream, a simple figment of his overworked mind…. however to be on the safe side….. I quickly stood up and bowed at the waist, "Lord Sheogorath, I wasn't expecting you." The daedra prince just smiled and laughed. it was not a nice smile. " You didn't expect ME!" he laughed his voice shifted to a very high pitch near the end, causing me to cringe, good lord that is unnerving. "Of course you didn't you nitwit, nobody ever expects ol' Sheo!" he laughed again but stopped as soon as he had started." Is-" I swallowed to clear my voice, " Is there something you need?"

I feel like i'm sweating buckets, the lord of insanity himself is here, talking to me, and he shouldn't even be real! what gives!? He flashes me that horrible smile again before speaking, even as I suppressed a shiver. " You said you wished you could live out your stories, Well Laddie i'm giving you the chance! HAHA!" I could feel myself turn a chalky white, I didn't actually expect an answer to my complaints! "Thats right your going to go right in and live that story you were writing, but seeing as you don't have any combat prowess or even a wabbajack as magnificent as mine, I feel I should give my new minion a power boost before I drop you off in your new world." I Shook myself out of my surprise," What, but I can't go! I have a life here, my family and friends!"

Sheogorath's face suddenly flew into a rage of the likes of which I have never seen, his voice becoming a loud rumbling roar, "Not anymore you don't! You are mine now boy, and if I want to send you to another realm for my enjoyment then I will do so no matter what you say or how much you scream!" I backed away to the opposite wall, he followed me step by step until I could go no further, his horrific eyes filling up my entire field of vision. " My hooky hooks are in ya soul now boy! from now until you die you are mine until I tire of you!" His words dropped in volume to a deathly whisper, "Got that sunny?" I nodded as fast as I could, not trusting myself to speak. My new master's face lit up like a child's on christmas," Oh goody! I was afraid I'd at least have to rip out your entrails!" he clasped his hand onto my shoulder in a vice like grip as he began to steer me towards the door. " Now you can get your choice of wishes but you can only have three so use them wisely!" he finished his sentence in a sing song voice.

At this point i was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, my mind trying to come up with three things that I could use on my 'quest' I was unwillingly being volunteered for...maybe with the proper wording... yes this could work." My Lord I-I have decided on what my first wish will be," I stuttered but tried to keep myself calm, the pressure was helping my to focus on what I was trying to say, and not the god-like being who held my soul in his metaphorical fist. " I wish to have a polymorph spell, something that will allow me to change my form into that of a great warrior,an animal that can hide in plain sight, and perhaps something that could fly?". His face lit up with manic joy as he lifted his staff to call his will into being". Wait I'm not finished!" I would later be amazed that he did infact stop and didn't even show anger, but merely surprised that I has asked him to wait, " my second wish.." I took a breathe, this one would probably make him a little upset,

" My second wish is that I be allowed to do as I will" I saw his face darken and I hurriedly explained myself, " I-I-I mean if all I do is cause destruction you will quickly tire of me m-my lord, wouldn't you rather I try and make it interesting for you?" The manic joy was back,that was good, happy sheo wouldn't smite me… I hope. " And what is your third wish servant? Speak quickly or you will have no Cheese!" resisting the urge to flinch, I spoke my third wish," a large pack of holding my lord that is all else I could ask for." i spoke quickly wanting to just get this started and get as far away from this being as i possibly could. He began to twirl his staff like a baton, gathering waves of fire, lightning and roaring darkness in the area of the spinning staff, his deranged grin grew even more unhinged," thats three NOW SMILE FOR ME!" he threw the mystical energies that cover his staff at me and it wasn't until the vortex was about to hit me that i thought i should probably have asked for the process to be painless...20/20 in hindsight as the saying goes.

while i would have loved to have said the pain was tolerable but that would be a lie, as soon as i got hit my entire body literally exploded with pain, blood flew and i fell into the black recesses of consciousness. now let me tell you that even falling unconscious wasn't enough to block out the pain completely. i could feel my bones growing, especially in my right arm as i felt the limb grew stronger and stronger, all the while my hand was changing. it is a very painful process for a person's fingers to fuse together and form a two fingered claw with a single grasping thumb claw. My body began to balk up, packing on a serious amount of muscle power.

suddenly, with a sudden flash of mind rending haze light, my body was completely adorned with a azure colored armor with the exception of my right arm, the gauntlet, the plate battle skirt, breastplate and helm were made of a bluish steel. on the Breastplate there was a raised sigil of an eye. while the helm completely covered my face, with the exception of the eye slit, i could feel who extensions swooping back from my temples, these extensions were shaped like the wings of bats or back of my head began to itch before my hair grew longer than it had ever had before, turning a deep blood red color before it finally stopped growing me the small of my back. then it appeared, standing at what I ould guess to be around six feet tall and two feet wide stood a sword unlike any other. Its steel blade was razor sharp and cast with the bloody glow of millions slain. Carved into the steel were runes of unknown origin and on the hilt, right where the blade met the handle, a large blood red eye opened and looked about before settling its gaze upon me. When our eyes locked I felt a kinship, and a voracious hunger to devour all that stood before me.

suddenly the process reversed,and the world seemed to grow massively before my eyes, my limbs fused to my torso, my ribs multiplied in a vast number and the sword of legends disappeared like a misty haze. As I fell to the ground my hair grew back into my flesh, as scales of a molted sandy brown ripped their way through my skin. My teeth fused together into a pair of great fangs,behind them I felt what I knew had to be venom sacks forming. then my eyes, by the good lord, my eyes began to change! no longer did I see in color as I was used too, but in blues, reds, yellows, and whites.

I reared back, the hood of skin around my neck flaring in my distress. thankfully this form changed as well, my scaled hide began to rip itself from my form exposing black feathers, my eyes quickly morphed back into the colored spectrum, allowing me a small moment of relief, through the pain I was feeling as my mouth warped and shifted into a razor sharp beak. My feet and legs grew back but were thin, three toed, with a single balancing digit from the other end of the clawed appendages. I lay on the ground, twitching in pain, yet when I try and vocalize it all that escapes my beak is a weak, choked caw. My skull felt like it was splitting, the knowledge of what my three forms would look like having been shoved into my brain like a watermelon in a blender, Sheo's doing no doubt.

Speaking of who, Sheogorath towered over my feeble body, before stooping down to pick me up in his hands. He then began walking toward an oblivion gateway that he then opened with just a simple gesture. " Okay boyo, ya got your fancy spells and ya pack will be waiting for you when you wake in the new realm, so here a quick rundown of your polymorphin powers, when you wake up you will be yer old self again, but on your left hand you will have three tattoos: a feather, a freaky eye, and a fang, i know you can figure it out!" i struggled weakly in his grip as he held me in a single hand before rearing his arm back away from the portal. " what is he- oh wait PLEASE GOD NO!" my struggles intensified as he tossed me through the dimensional tear like a professional quarterback, the last thing I heard before I went through the portal was," keep it interesting boy!" then everything went black…

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**Okay guys that was my fist chapter of Legends of Lunacy, please let me know how you feel about it, but keep the flaming to a minimum. Also as a reminder, for those of you asking about The Gamer effect, I still need you guys and gals to send me your submitions for the story to continue, with the way my mind has been coming up with ideas I haven't been able to focus on anything for a long period of time. thanks again an ill see you next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

Legends of Lunacy

By Bazerkerking

( A Self-Insert? AWESOME!) part 2

Have you ever been knocked into unconsciousness? let me tell you, it isn't as simple as turning the lights off, and suddenly waking up somewhere else. You don't really see in the physical sense, but its dark...as in completely. Thoughts don't seem to move fast as when a person sleeps or when awake, and speaking of movement, your 'body' is completely frozen into place, unable to move or even feel anything. Yet for reasons beyond my comprehension my sense of smell works fine.

All I can smell in this dark void is the scent of soil, pine trees, and what I think is moss. As time goes on, I can 'feel' the darkness begin to recede; feeling in my limbs, starting in the tips of my fingers and toes, begins to return in the form of that extremely annoying pins and needles sensation. I became aware of a weight on my chest, and a Massive amount of pain in the back of my left hand, this pain helps force the darkness away even further, I could feel the snowy wind on my face, the bite of ice on my have finally begun to reach my ears, the soft chirping of birds, and the whisper of the wind as it blows through the branches of trees nearby.

My eyes slowly open and a whole new world enters my eyes for the first time. I sit up as quickly as my sore body will allow me too, shivering all the while. The memories of what had happened to me surging back with a vengeance. A leather satchel roles off my chest and falls the the ground at my side. Ignoring the bag for now, I took a quick glance around to see if anything looked the least bit familiar, what I saw stunned me; I was in a cold, icy, mountain pass with a few trees spackling the landscape. The jagged peaks of the mountains rose above my head, towering over everything nearby for miles upon miles, but what really caught my attention was that of a statue standing by the road, as if guarding it from trespassers.

The statue depicted that of humanoid being with a massive, broad chest with arms to match, a pair of stubby legs, and a bearded, bald head with a very fierce face. I must have stood there for a few minutes at the very least, gawking like some sort of tourist, 'it couldn't possibly be', I thought ' would he have really sent me to the only other bethesda game I have ever played?' I shook my head in rage at the pain i was still feeling and annoyance over the universe I now recognized I was in. " I haven't even finished this one yet! Damn you Sheo!" Looking back at the statue of the dwarf i looked around and spotted in the distance the Gates of Orzammar, further cementing my position in the dragons age universe…. Damn it all to R'ylah.

Reaching for my satchel to see if my new 'patron' has left me with anything besides the clothes on my back, my eye catch the markings on my left hand, the three markings are there just as Sheogorath said they would, but not the way one would picture them. Arranged into a vague crescent moon shape; there are now three black, tattoo-like brands on my hand: the first is in the shape of a rhombus with a circle in the center,it is placed near the knuckle of my middle finger, the second was lower and to the right, directly underneath my pinky finger. when looking at this one it looked like the black half of the yin-yang symbol, finally the third brand was located above my wrist, was a stick with a bunch of smaller stick branching out of it towards the other two brands. I suppose if you squint at them you can see an eye, fang, and a feather, but apparently being the god of insanity doesn't mean that he can draw in any way other than stick figures.

Reaching again for the satchel, I opened the flap hoping against my own paranoia that Sheo would actually add something into the bag that would be useful other than the clothes on my my utter surprise, the daedra wasn't as litteral as I thought he might have been: inside the bag I found a thick, heavy bear skin cape/cloak thing easily able to cover myself as is and would probably even be able to cover the entirety of my mutated arm. I also found a hunters knife, a block of cheese, and… a bag of silver and copper coins. realizing this was what passed for currency in Ferelden, I counted the coins as quickly as I could, coming to a grand total of forty-seven silvers and eighty-three coppers. While I didn't buy food in game, I figured it would have to be cheap enough that I could at least buy provisions. It wasn't much, but what I had was definitely better then just starting out with my powers. So, after gathering up my few meager possessions, I slung the satchel over my shoulder and headed for the massive gates of Orzammar, if i'm lucky then my 'free will' wish will allow me to get there without any major difficulties.

After trudging my way down the path, I find myself in a miniature marketplace, arranged in a circle. All around me were merchants; men, dwarves, and even an elf or two, and customers. Who, like me, were browsing the wares for whatever catches their eye. After browsing the stalls for anything useful, my eye spots a map of Ferelden on a table of the stall next to the on I was currently looking at, walking over I manage to catch the shopkeeper's attention and waved him over. "See anything you like Ser? I have a wonderful selection of wares, from armor and weapons, to poultices and poisons!" I'll give the guy credit, he does know how to make a sales pitch. " yes actually Ill need that map you have of Ferelden", At his confused look I quickly pulled a lie. " My old one caught fire last night, was a little too close to the fire." He gave a sound of understanding as he placed the map on the flimsy table between us. " Alright see, the map will be a solid thirty silvers."

If I knew anything from my voyages into the trading market it was when I was being overcharged by a street vendor and how to haggle prices. "That's Highway robbery and you know it! I'd only pay thirty Silvers if you threw in that set of ratty leather armor you have stashed in the corner over yonder and a house in denerim!." The shopkeep glanced at the armor had previously mentioned, it was a normal set of leather armor, with small metal pauldrons, leather bracers, shin guards, and roman-like battle skirt. " Dear customer that armor is made of the finest Orleasian leather! I could only bare to part with it and the map for fifteen silvers and eighty-seven coppers."

" I can count at least seven holes in the chest piece from here, and the map has water damage! The highest I'd pay is ten silvers and thirteen coppers!" I offered him my hand, "final offer." He held my gaze for only a moment before his hand slapped into mine, " Deal!"

After I had donned my armor for my 'base form' and placed my new map into my pack I began to make my way to the gates. " Halt! What is your business in Orzammar surfacer? I looked at the guard, " Just trying to get out of the cold for a few hours. " I laughed, the guard chuckled a bit in understanding, and motioned me towards the door. When I entered the city of Orzammar I was taken back by the amazing feeling of actually warming up, and and in sheer size of the architecture of the dwarves. I could definitely see the remains of the proud empire that used to be seated here, hell I bet with time , effort and a horde of war golems that empire could come back into being. I wandered the commons for a while, taking in the sights and absorbing as much heat as I could for the eventuality of heading back outside, when i spotted the path to the Deep Roads. I stopped moving and just stared at the cavernous maw of darkness that was the entrance to darkspawn territory. On either side of the entrance to the cave system, massive pyres illuminated the surrounding area.

This was my real reason for coming into Orzammar, I needed to gain experience fighting in my Warrior form, as Nightmare. I chose the Deep Roads because there would be an absolute minimal chance of me hurting anyone important if I couldn't control Soul Edge. For those of you who don't know Soul Edge is a sentient sword, it has a mind and will of its own. After bathing in the blood of thousands of beings on over a thousand different battles, soul edge became self aware, and somewhere along the line gained the ability to devour the souls of the fallen to boost its already incredible power.. Truly a fearsome weapon, but not one I would use around people unless I had full control over it.

As I began to head through the commons to the deep roads themselves when I heard the tale end of a conversation between two dwarf women that caught my interest, " -Hear? The king's daughter, lady Sereda, has been sentenced to the Deep Roads!", the speaker's companion gasped, " Whatever for? What did she do?!". " Apparently," she said, " She killed her brother, the crown prince! As punishment her name is stripped from her house registry and sent to the deep roads to die!" Interesting. While I hadn't played as a Dwarf noble before, I knew the basics; after being betrayed the dwarf noble is sent to the deep roads to die and meets Duncan, que rest of the game.

Having reached the edge of the commons, I began to traverse the small, winding path to the deep roads themselves. In front of the cave entrance, I saw a small grouping of guards. there were eight dwarven warriors, four facing the cave, four facing the city, Each and every one of them was standing perfectly at attention. As I approached, I awaited to be acknowledged, to hear the demand to halt, yet it never came. This unsettled me. As I got even closer I knew something wasn't how it was supposed to be. The guards weren't moving outside of the necessary breaths needed to stay alive. A glance into their eyes showed the same unblinking, dead to the world gaze.

From what I knew of this universe, I knew that dwarves were immune to the Fade, and were highly resistant to demonic possession as a result, but as far as I could tell this wasn't possession, my next suspicion was the Sheo wasn't going to even try to slow me down and wanted me to get to the fighting as quickly as possible… or he wanted soul edge to consume me quickly as possible. that as a jolting thought. What if he only brought me here to unleash Nightmare onto Thedus?

That was a horrifying all this wolds history, they have never faced something like soul edge. As quickly as I could I grabbed a near by torch and entered the deep roads, visions entered my frantic mind of what soul edge could do in this world. I nearly ran, following the tunnel deeper into the earth. I needed to test my form, I Needed to know if my suspicions were correct. I touched the activation brand and immediately felt the pain of the transformation take place. My body grew, my bones strengthened, my arm shifted into the three fingered, mottled brown visage of badassery that I knew so well from video games past. The armor formed around me, settling into place, offering the comfort of protection as it covered me completely. The sword appeared in a flash of mind altering haze, embedded into the stone beside me in the cobblestones of the road. Shaking the pain from my mind, I looked to the source of my sudden worry.

Truly the blade was massive, easily six feet in length and at least a foot in width. The entire color scheme of the evil blade was various shades of red. the hilt was mottled, reddish brown, the same color as drying blood that has begun to blade itself was more intune with the orange found in flames, with hints of yellow mixed in to enhance the savage beauty of the construct. But what would draw the most attention would be the single, large, fleshy, animated eye that was embedded into the hilt. the unnatural ocular organ moved about frantically, without any rhyme or reason to its movements before finally settling on to my armored self. I slowly reached out with my gauntlet covered hand, the eye tracking my movements like a cornered animal. With a shuddering breath I quickly latched my armored grip onto the hilt… nothing.

At least ,while I could feel a tremendous amount of power, I couldn't feel any major presence. My thoughts were my own and, with a quick flex of my claws and a series of movements, one hundred percent in control of my own actions. I don't understand, Soul edge is a sentient sword capable of devouring souls and controlling the minds of those who wield it. Only those with a very strong will can resist it, and even then not for very long, and while I do take pride in my self control, I don't consider it to be my strongest point. I can feel the power practically vibrating in my grasp and an awe inspiring hunger, there is not true intelligence. The feeling is almost reptilian in a way, a hunger and some basic survival instinct but that is it.

Seeing that my worries seem to be mostly unfounded, I pull the sword from the stone flooring, the steel of the blade rasping against its temporary prison as it is removed. Now that I am truly holding the blade in my hand, i can feel the impressive weight it possesses. After a few practice swings, it is easy to see the way the previous nightmare used it was the correct one, large sweeping swipes, vicious overhead chops, and underhand slashes. I turn my head and stare into the darkness, From within the black abyss i can faintly hear the sound of steel clashing. If memory serves,the dwarven noble is somewhere in the deep roads, fighting to survive and to join the wardens, "And my ticket to Ostagar." I took off into the dark, my torch lighting the way as the sounds of combat guide me.

It was a short while later that I discovered my first group of darkspawn, it was a small group, only eight of the small ones and two of the tall ones, genlocks and hurlocks, I think. .No ogres or shrieks thankfully. Now that I could see them in person I could see they were disgusting creatures; their armor was cheaply made, as were their weapons, and they spoke in gunts and flemmy they had that passed for flesh was rotting and covered in pus. Most of the smaller darkspawn held small daggers, or rotting crossbows, the taller two both held large waraxes in their diseased fingers. Wth what I can only assume was a command to attack, the larger of the two hurlocks motioned in my direction and the small horde sprung into action. The little archers fell back and began to load their crossbows, the rest of my new enemies began to charge like the suicidal grunts they were, with the two hurlocks leading the pack.

The lead beast brought its axe up for an overhead slash, With a quick side-step and a retaliatory horizontal swing,crumpling armor and spilling its intestines across the ground. The second hurlock advanced, followed by a miniature swarm of crossbow bolts. I followed through with the momentum of the blade, twisting my body around to build up the torque for a massive over-hand blow, splitting the hurlock down the middle, soul edge coming to a stop somewhere in the darkspawn's sternum, all the while moving out of the way of the swarm of bolts.

Three genlocks came forward,screaming their war cries. With a vicious backhand, I tore off the jaw of the closest, while knocking the rest off their feet. Quickly, I planted my foot on the torso my sword was embedded in and with a quick pull, I released it from its temporary fleshy prison. With my weapon free,I quickly strode over to the down genlocks. After stomping the head in of the first one I came across,I raised soul edge quickly execute the other two on the ground.

This plan was derailed with a loud 'Clang!', as my head was wrenched to the side,staggering me with the sharp pain of metal grinding against my teeth and cheek. The pain caused a light red haze to cloud my vision and a high pitch ringing to fill my ears as I located the rest of the I killed the remaining two nearest to me, I charged those that remained, a loud roar lept from my throat as I cut them down. After the red haze and the ringing of my ears had ended, I turned to the corpses of the darkspawn. I was a bit beside myself, How was I supposed to feel about these things? Upset that I had killed them so brutally? After a few moments i decided that wasn't the case, I did not consider these things to really be alive, sort of like stepping on ants,so small and insignificant in the grand scheme. Did I feel anything? Truly I didn't know, I guess that my natural indifference to others as an american was responsible, I don't know. All I do know is that i have to keep going….


	3. Chapter 3

Legends of Lunacy

The Stone Mage (Part 1)

Sobek was an young apostate, born to a hedge witch and a blinded former mercenary near the outskirts of the town of Ansburg in Antiva. His mother had always told him, that the magic he held was powerful, that his ancestors were once members of the Tevinter Imperium way back in the days of old. Sobek couldn't tell at times weather his mother said these things because she wanted to feel as if her blood line came from somewhere, or if she actually meant for it to mean something.

Personally, Sobek felt little love or any emotion when he thought of his ancestors, after all he had never met them, never known them. What he did know was, that today the Imperium wasn't as grand as his mother tried to tell him it was. The empire was greatly weakened, smaller than it had ever been, and more importantly, it had scarred his father.

When he was just a boy of seven years, his father and his mercenary company had been hired to protect a family of merchants from a band of slave takers that had been plaguing the roads to Orlais. While the merchants had been setting up camp, his father had been patrolling the perimeter, trying to keep an eye out for any trouble, when he was attacked by a band of ten slavers… one of which was a magi of the imperium. although his father fought bravely and valiantly, managing to slay four of the enemy all on his own, he could not best the mage. The imperial magic user basted his father to the ground with a fireball, the flames of which burned his eyes so badly, that they had to be amputated only a few days later in his recovery.

When his father had returned to the house, his mother had done all that she could to help her husband, but even she knew there was no magic to restore that which was taken from him. Sobek's father spent the rest of his life at his home, regaling his beloved son with the tale of his mercenary days. Stories of honor, glory, and battle flashed in the mind of his son. To Sobek, his father was a hero, a warrior who not only saved the day, but got paid to do it! So while his mother taught him about magic and its wonders, the boy learned of glory, honor, and the thrill of battle from his father. It was from these stories, that Sobek wished what all young boys wish, to be like his father and to make him proud.

However, there was a problem, While Sobek was strong in the ways of magic, learning spells of destruction at a pace that pleased his mother, but he possessed low stamina, that of a normal man, nothing even close to a warrior like his father. This caused Sobek no small amount of irritation, how would he be like his father if even working around the house for an hour made him tired? When he asked his father how he got so strong, His father laughed and said," Becoming strong doesn't just happen Sobek, you have to work for it each and every day." And so he did.

Every day for the next few years, after he finished his lessons with his mother, Sobek did everything his father would do before his eyes were taken; he would chop wood until his arms felt like paste, he would bring fresh water up from the well until his feet failed him, he would do this each and everyday, doing his absolute best to become as strong as his father no matter how hard he tried he could never reach the level he remembered his father being at all those years ago.

Ashamed that he couldn't reach the same titanical level of strength as his father, Sobek turned to the ways of mysticism, to further his desire to be as strong as his father. Under the tutelage of his mother, he studied the mysteries of fire, lightning and earth: through fire, he gained understanding of heat, light and explosive force., Through Lightning, he learned of its attraction to metal and its piercing thrust. Finally, through his experimentation of earth, he became aware of its strength, its ability to defend, how it can petrify living things. For seven years he studied these elements, for seven years he searched for a way to enhance his strength.

He still searched for the answer. One day after he had finished helping his family out around the hut, Sobek found himself sitting in the shade of a near by tree, in his hands he held a simple river rock that he had found years ago, along with a simple iron dagger that his father had given to him on his sixth birthday. Why he still had these items after all these years was a question he truly didn't know, the dagger was a gift from his father yes, but the rock wasn't unusual in the slightest. His mother called him a pack rat, he always seemed to hold on to everything he found and thought would be useful.

" If only they could be of use now," he said, his voice was a deepening timber, that of a boy growing into manhood, "I know you can be of use." He looked at the rock and the blade, " But how? How can I become stronger from you? my flesh can only grow so strong...'

The thought came to him in a flash, causing him to rise from his relaxed position again the tree. What if he build a body? Not of weak flesh and brittle bone, but of strong stone, and unyielding iron? His strength would be completely unmatched! His joy was tempered as he followed his line of thought, ' But how could i build a body? Neither mother nor I know anything of healing than the most basic of spells, and he didn't know of any magic that could transfer his mind and soul into a body of his choosing outside of blood magic. He huffed at the thought, his mother and father had both made is explicitly clear that blood magic made people foolish, idiotic, and very stupid.

He stood and began to walk towards his family's home, still deep in thought, Ideas were flashing in and out of his mind like the the lightning strikes in a thunderstorm. Ideas that still were blocked by his ignorance of how the human body truly worked, and his iron clad belief that blood magic made you stupid.

When he entered the hut he saw his mother was in the midst of making either soup that would last the next few days or was attempting to make soap again. He shook his head, the last time his mother had tried to make soap, it had boiled over and completely covered the floor with the waxy oil. His father was reclining in his favored rocking chair in the corner, polishing the helm of his armor. Sobek's eyes seemed to gain a touch of sadness, his father would polish that helm every day, usually when he would become frustrated over his lack of sight, Sobek remembered how his father said that he knew each and every scratch, and miniscule dent that was in his helmet, and that every time he polished it, he could almost fool himself into seeing it again.

Suddenly an idea slammed into Sobek's mind like a runaway merchant cart. what if instead of creating a whole body of stone and steel, he just used his magic to make an impenetrable armor of stone and metal, almost like the metal shell his father was polishing?

' Yes,' He thought to himself, ' That will do nicely.'


	4. Chapter 4

Legends of lunacy

imagine tears

If you guys want to feel the same amount of emotion that i felt when i wrote this song, please listen to " Who is this Child" by trans-siberian orchestra.

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><p>A young author sat reclining in an armchair, staring at an empty screen as he listened to his set on random. No mattered what song came on he couldn't achieve the motivation to spur on his imagination, no amount of rock, classical, or metal seemed to be his saving grace this day. Finally, in frustration, he reached forward to unplug his music player. As his fingers brushed the cord, a new song gently arose from the speakers, a song he had forgotten he had even had. He leaned back into his chair, 'maybe', he thought, 'maybe just one more song.' with that thought he closed his eyes and let his mind run free, painting a scene in his mind unlike anything he had ever seen before.<p>

the scene opened in the snow covered streets of London in the 1900's. Pearing out of a window, a well off man in a black suit coat, a monocle in his jacket's pocket. Over his shoulder, through the frosted window, an orphaned girl-child dressed in rags had fallen asleep on the stoop outside his door. He took a breath and began to sing.

_Who is this child_

_That I've never seen before?_

_Who is this child_

_That I've not seen till this day?_

_Who dares to fall asleep_

_Outside my door?_

_if we should wait awhile_

_I'm sure she'll go away_

He turned around, pacing a few steps away from the frosted portal to the outside. Running his fingers through his hair with a nervous edge he glanced at the crucifix that was placed upon his mantle before walking back to the window.

_To be involved with this_

_Would surely not be wise_

_For in the final word_

_She means nothing to me_

_I learned the trick is_

_That we just avoid her eyes_

_And the question_

_What she means to_

He stepped away and strode to the crucifix, His up in a motion reminiscent of prayer, he's eyes pleading.

_What is this life?_

_There will be other lives_

_Soon to arrive_

_Surely some will survive_

_She is but one_

he gestured to the door. Tears welling up in his eyes.

_And there are many more_

_Each the same as any other_

_Who is this child?_

_What does she mean to me?_

_I close my eyes_

_And still her face I see_

_She is but one_

_Her kind is everywhere_

_Can't you see there's no way I should care?_

He turned from the holy symbol, his eyes shut in denial, tears beginning to leak from his lashes..

_I need a moment now_

_I have to clear my mind_

_Is there a limit Lord_

_Just to being kind?_

_There is no way in life_

_That each child can be saved_

_Should I be looking with regret_

_At every grave_

_There are no guarantees_

_In life she should be warned_

_I'm not responsible_

_For this child being born_

_I'm not responsible_

_In any kind of way_

_For every child that life can gather_

He turned back to the symbol of his god, his coat tails flaring around him from the sudden movements. as he once more assumed a position of supplication. kneeling, he eye gazed upon his God again, filled with a frustration for doing what is right and what a man of his station would do.

_What is this life?_

_There will be other lives_

_Soon to arrive_

_Surely some will survive_

_She is but one_

_And there are many more_

_Could this one life really matter?_

_Who is this child?_

_What does she mean to me?_

Quietly he stood and fell against the door frame, before sliding down into a sitting position, resting his head against the solid barrier separating him from the sleeping child.

_I close my eyes_

_And still her face I see_

_She is but one_

_Her kind is everywhere_

_Can't you see there's no way I should care?_

His eyes closed, and flashes of the others, the orphaned children that society would try to ignore. begging on the corner, their dirty faces filled with hope that just one person would try and help them this day. He eyes flew open, full of determination. His voice reflected this.

_And you see it in the night_

_And you feel that it's out there_

_It's the arcing of a life_

_And it's hanging in the air_

_Though I try to close my eyes_

_And pretend that I don't know_

_In my heart I just can't let it go_

He stood up and his face covered in tears that poured from his eyes, his fist raised into the air. his finely dressed clothes were scuffed and wrinkled in his tormented decision making.

_There has to be another way for me_

_A way that leads from this insanity_

_A way that leads from my destruction as I say_

_Can you see it in the night?_

_Can you feel that it's out there?_

His gloved hand reached for the doorknob. his hand shook as it approached his final decision. Grasping the device with the grip of a man who knew what he was doing was right. His voice grew in strength.

_It's the arcing of a life_

_And it's hanging in the air_

_Though I try to close my eyes_

_And pretend that I don't know_

_In my heart I just can't let it_

_Go…._

With a turn of the know he opened the door, awakening the child. Her eyes opened and found his, filling with hope as she searched his face for the reason that he would open the portal into the house. The rich man bent down on one knee, bringing his head down to her level. He extended his hand towards her ,palm up, tears still streaming down his face.

The girls face slowly filled with happiness as her own hand slowly reached out to grasp his in return.

The music ended, the author own eyes opened, wet with emotion as a single tear fell down his cheek. lifting his head, he turned to his computer, and began to write.

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><p>Hey everyone, I was listening to a song sung by Trans-siberian orchestra called " Who is this Child" and it brought this whole story to me as i was walking with my music trying to find an idea to write about. When i hear the song the emotion just had to be put on paper… or the web as is the case, so i hope you could enjoy this as much as I did.<p> 


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